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A vast stillness, scattered with distant stars. Beneath your feet rests a smooth, glassy barrier, mirroring the cosmos above. Time doesn’t pass here. At least not how you’d expect it to.
“Ah! There you are.”
A figure waves you over, his grin unmistakable even in the silence between stars. He lounges comfortably on nothing at all, as if the void itself were his armchair, legs crossed, red wool sleeves rolled up, expression lit with mischief.
He plucks something unseen from the air. A single line of light, a glowing thread of violet, stretched between his fingers, pulsing with quiet energy. With an absent hum, he begins to weave it, pulling it with both hands. With every twist and loop, shapes begin to form. Lines cross. A lattice. A web of complexity.
“My name is Xelqua. But in your story…” he shoots you a look, a knowing glint in his eye “…you might know me better as Grian.”
A familiar symbol flares purple behind his eyes as he pulls the strings taut, the spaces between the intersections begin to shimmer. And in each one, a world forms.
You hear familiar voices echoing between one shape. A siren’s song, sung not to kill, but to comfort. A girl struggles to cope with divinity while another fights to keep the woman she loves. Your story.
You watch it flicker through the web between his fingers. Scenes unfold in fragments—Pearl laughing on the deck, Gem’s hands flowing like the ocean waves, a flash of light, a violent explosion. They shimmer like shards of stained glass woven between his hands.
“It’s a good one, isn’t it?” he says, his gaze warm. “I’ve been watching it along with you.”
Then, gently, he moves a finger. Just one. The thread shifts. New shapes form in the lattice. The web reforms, humming with new tension.
The scenes between the lines ripple. A splash. A scream. A smirk. A kiss. Familiar faces rearranged in unfamiliar ways.
“But I was curious,” he muses. “What if we changed just one thing?”
The new shapes settle, new light pulses in the web.
“What if the sea called to someone else?”
He stretches the weave like a curtain, and the void shifts
“What if Gem was the one caught in the net?”
He grins, eyes twinkling, and looks right at you.
“Come on. Let’s take a look.”
The water was calm today.
It lapped lazily against the hull of the small vessel bobbing on the surface, its reflection shivering across the ocean’s mirrored skin. Gem floated just beneath the surface, her body still but for the lazy flick of her tail. The ocean wrapped around her like silk, the currents tugging at strands of ginger hair as she stared upward through the wavering lens of the sea.
The vessel was small, a research boat barely longer than an orca, bobbing gently with the waves. No banners, no rusted harpoons or chattering sailors tossing scraps overboard. Just one figure, alone on the deck, crouched over a shallow tray of coral samples. Tweezers in one hand. Pen in the other. A small leather-bound notebook rested open on her lap, its pages weathered and stained with salt and sun, her amber-brown hair tied back in a messy bun.
Strange.
Most surface-dwellers came in noisy packs, churning up sediment, shouting over each other, dragging nets too wide and too cruel across the reefs, leaving ruin in their wake. But this one… this one was quiet. Gentle. She handled each fragment of coral with care. She murmured soft thanks after every cast of her net, like she believed the ocean could hear her. Like it deserved gratitude.
That made Gem’s head tilt, a curious smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Humans didn’t usually talk to the sea. Not unless they were mad. Certainly never like this.
She didn’t understand it.
Gem drifted a little closer, careful not to break the surface, her long curls fanning behind her. Gem was no stranger to humans. She made a game of it, often spooking humans for fun, mimicking their voices just to see them look over their shoulders in fear. She’d flipped more than one lifeboat out of sheer boredom. She liked the thrill. She liked the chase.
But not this time.
This one had her full attention.
She drifted a little closer, letting just her eyes break the surface. The human didn’t see. She sang to herself as she worked—off-key, a little gravel in her voice, but something about it caught. It stirred something in Gem’s chest. A warmth she didn’t know how to name.
Gem tilted her head, entranced.
Gem sank slightly, blinking once.
Why did she care?
She didn’t know her name. Names weren’t important. What mattered was the quiet look of concentration on her face, the way she hummed when she was focused, how she spoke to the ocean like an old friend.
With a fluid twist, Gem moved beneath the boat, circling slowly, gaze fixed upward. She could see the shape of the human above, framed by the pale blue sky, crouched in a way that left her vulnerable, unguarded. Trusting.
She was easy prey. But Gem didn’t move.
Instead, she listened.
The human’s song continued, breaking off now and then with a laugh, or a muttered curse when she dropped something. She sang like no one was listening. No one ever did.
Except now—someone was.
Gem stayed there, suspended in the quiet, staring up through the thin veil separating sea and air
She just wanted a closer look.
Just one.
The sun hung warm and hazy above the open sea, painting the gentle swells in ribbons of gold. Pearl sat cross-legged near the edge of the deck, peering into the eyepiece of her microscope. A delicate bit of coral rested beneath the lens—vibrant pink, branching like frost. She turned it gently, scanning for signs of bleaching, parasites, damage—anything worth noting.
Her leather-bound field book lay open beside her, half-filled with hasty diagrams and scrawled notes. The edges were curled and salt-stained, worn soft by years of care.
She hummed to herself as she worked, a low, aimless melody. Nothing structured. Just a tune passed between thoughts, keeping her company, the kind of tune that changed shape each time she sang it. The waves lapped softly against the boat’s hull. Gulls called somewhere overhead. She was alone out here. Just her, her thoughts, and the sea.
Pearl set the coral aside and reached for the next tray. She paused to scribble something about the pH of the water before setting her journal aside.
A pleased sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the railing. No noise, no people, no problems. Just the creak of the wood and the low, patient breathing of the waves.
She liked it that way.
Her fingers drummed lightly against the deck as she continued to hum. The song wandered, like her thoughts, dipping into quiet whenever she got too focused on a sample and picking up again as her hands stilled.
“You’ve been cooperative today,” she muttered, stretching out a leg and arching her back. “Appreciate that.”
The sea didn’t respond, obviously. But she’d always felt better pretending it did. “You’re a good listener,” she muttered. “Better than the guys at home, anyway.”
A stray wave splashed into her face. She blinked and snorted a laugh. “I’ll take that as an agreement.”
She leaned her weight into her hands and tilted her face toward the breeze. The air tasted clean and sharp, tinged with salt. Her tune resumed, lazily, slipping between breaths. She found herself smiling without knowing why.
Then she paused.
That feeling again.
She blinked. Straightened. For no reason at all, the skin on the back of her neck prickled. She turned her head slowly, scanning the water around her. Nothing. The boat rocked gently beneath her. The waves whispered on.
“Okay…” Pearl muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Either I need more sleep or I need to switch meds. Or maybe coffee first.”
She laughed under her breath, trying to shake the weird tension coiling under her ribs. She looked again, longer this time, searching the shadows between the waves.
Still nothing. Not even a ripple.
Pearl let out a slow breath and sat back down, one knee raised to balance her journal. She turned her attention to her notes, muttering them out loud. Every so often her gaze flicked sideways, toward the railing. Toward the water.
From the corner of her eye—movement.
She froze.
A flicker just under the surface. Like something turning. Something large.
She turned sharply, but whatever it was had vanished. The water was smooth. Peaceful. Not even a bubble.
Pearl stared for a moment longer, her heart knocking once, hard.
There’s nothing there. She forced herself to believe it. Get a grip Pearl, he’s gone.
With a quiet exhale, she stood. She busied herself with organizing the samples, stacking trays with a bit more force than necessary. She double-checked the salinity readout.
She shook her head and turned back toward her station.
Then something tugged on the net.
Just a nudge—light enough that she almost didn’t notice. Her eyes flicked to the pulley dial.
Then the rope jerked.
The winch groaned under the strain.
“What the—” she gasped, stumbling forward as the net arm snapped taut, rattling hard against its frame, tilting the ship slightly.
Pearl lunged to grab it, knocking over a tray in the process. The rope shivered with tension. Something was pulling against it. Hard.
She grabbed the crank with both hands, boots sliding slightly on the wet deck.
The rope yanked again.
Stronger.
Pearl yelped as she was nearly thrown overboard. She slammed the brake into place and began to crank.
Maybe a shark, she thought. Or an unlucky dolphin caught in the net.
She braced herself, staring at the rope vibrating in the pulley’s grip. Whatever it was, it was big.
And it was angry.
Gem hovered just beneath the surface. Her fins twitched with the vibrations, responding instinctively. She drifted closer—recklessly so—until her forehead pressed gently against the underside of the hull. The sunlight filtering down turned the world gold and blue. She tilted her head to listen better, resting one webbed hand against the side of the boat. Her cheek pressed to the wooden hull of the boat, feeling each note reverberate down through the timber and into her bones.
Gem surfaced quietly, head tilted, olive-green eyes half-lidded in a sort of trance. Crimson hair clung in thick strands to her face, spread out behind her like a comet’s tail. She blinked slowly, gills fluttering. Her lionfish fins—long, trailing, striped in red and cream—fanned out behind her as she floated in place, entranced.
Unknowingly, she reached out, one hand grazing a thick length of rope hanging into the water. The moment her fingers curled around the line, it sank—just enough to trigger it.
The snap was sudden.
It yanked upward with brutal force, coiling around her limbs in a blur of motion. Gem let out a muffled cry, sharp and surprised, as the mesh wrapped around her torso and arms, dragging her bodily out of the water. Her fins flared reflexively, spines snapping open in a vain attempt to fight back, but the net tangled around her too fast. It tightened across her chest, pinning her arms and forcing her long fins flat against her back. Metal threads scraped against her skin and caught in her scales. The cords tangled around her face, gagging her. She let out a strangled sound, struggling against the grip.
She twisted in panic, tried to swim away, but the net only pulled tighter. Her antebrachial fins flared in alarm, venomous spines brushing uselessly against the mesh. The water fell away beneath her as she was hoisted upward, dragged into the air.
She slammed onto the deck with a heavy thud, limbs stuck at her sides and hair a tangled halo around her. Dazed, she gasped, air harsh in her lungs. The sun stung her scales, the heat a harsh contrast to the cool embrace of the ocean. Her gills flared in desperation, but the dry air made it harder to breathe. She clawed at the net, but it bit back, the ropes scoring deeper into her skin, leaving shallow, bleeding cuts across her body.
Gem snarled, muffled by the coils, teeth bared. She thrashed once, then again—but each movement only tangled her further. Her breathing quickened. Her tail slammed against the deck, muscles tightening, but there was nowhere to go.
She froze.
The human stood above her, wide-eyed and trembling. A tray had toppled to the side, papers and samples scattered at her feet. The woman’s breath was shallow, her hands shaking.
Gem met her gaze, chest heaving. Her lip curled back in a snarl—reflexive, instinctive, a flash of sharp teeth meant to scare. Her spines rattled in warning, though they were still tangled, useless against the net.
The human stumbled back, slipping on the wet deck with a startled yelp. She crashed into the railing, gasping, hands trembling at her sides.
Gem’s struggles slowed, the fight draining from her as pain burned across her body. The cuts deepened with every weakening effort. Her chest could barely expand, her limbs growing numb, and the net’s grip refused to loosen.
She glared at the human, daring her to come closer.
But her body trembled, blood dripping from the cuts, the net digging deeper into her flesh. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
She wasn’t supposed to be the prey.
Pearl rose slowly from where she’d fallen, still gripping the edge of the railing. Her breath came in shallow gasps, eyes wide and fixed on the creature sprawled before her.
Blood slicked the deck in narrow rivulets. The net had left glistening cuts across the siren’s limbs, soaking into the wire mesh and dripping steadily onto the sun-warmed wood.
She couldn’t look away.
Lionfish-like fins lay tangled and flattened beneath the net, torn in places where the sharp metal threads had caught and bitten through. Her skin shimmered wetly in the sun, a strange blend of iridescent coral-red and ivory white. Her gills fluttered against her neck like paper-thin leaves. Spines poked from her back and wrists, twitching with every frantic breath. Crimson hair clung to her face in thick, wet strands.
She was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that frightened Pearl.
And her eyes—olive green, wide, and wild with fear—locked onto hers.
The siren snarled, a guttural, feral sound that barely made it through the wires gagging her. Her lip curled back just enough to flash sharp teeth, but there was no strength behind it. Her body trembled. Her breath came fast and shallow.
This wasn’t a monster.
This was a girl in pain.
Pearl’s heart clenched. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Any sudden motion might send the siren back into a panic. Instead, she slowly eased herself down to her knees, hands shaking, eyes darting across the injuries, the delicate fins, the tight coils of wire cutting into soft flesh.
“Hey,” she said gently, her voice shaking. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Slowly, she reached for the tool belt clipped to her hip and pulled free a pair of wire cutters.
She hesitated. Then held them out in the open where the siren could see.
The glint of metal caught her attention.
The reaction was immediate. The siren bucked hard against the net, eyes flaring with fear. She twisted her body, trying to escape, only driving the wire deeper into her limbs. Blood oozed from her wounds, dark and thick. The sound she made—half hiss, half cry—broke Pearl’s heart.
“No—no, hey, stop!” Pearl dropped the cutters and raised both hands in surrender, palms out. “It’s okay—I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
The thrashing slowed. A little. But the panic didn’t leave her eyes.
Still, Pearl didn’t back off. She leaned in slowly and placed one hand, scared but steady, on the siren’s forehead.
The siren froze.
Her eyes, wide with panic, darted to Pearl’s hand and back to her face. Her breath was still fast, her muscles still tense, but she didn’t lash out.
Pearl inched forward. She didn’t lower her hands. Her voice dropped to something soft and steady, like she was comforting a frightened animal.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispered.
Pearl let out a shaky breath. “I’m going to cut you loose, okay?” she said softly. “Just stay still. You’ll be alright.”
The siren said nothing. Of course she didn’t. But she didn’t move, either.
Pearl picked the cutters back up.
She moved carefully, starting at the siren’s tail.
The mesh had wrapped tight around it, tearing through the delicate membranes of her fins. Pearl worked carefully, easing the cutters beneath each loop, snipping them one at a time. The wires snapped with a soft click. She winced every time the siren flinched—whether in pain or fear, she wasn’t sure.
Next came the arms.
One of the spines had twisted deep into the netting, forcing Pearl to slowly unwind it, coil by painful coil. Blood welled at her fingertips from the wires, but she didn’t stop.
Gem’s chest heaved. Her claws flexed and curled, twitching every time Pearl touched her. But she let her work. Pearl moved gently, murmuring soft reassurances under her breath, even if she didn’t know whether the siren could understand.
Finally, Pearl reached the wires wrapped around the siren’s throat and mouth. These were the worst—buried deep in her hair and wound tight around her neck. One twitch, one wrong move could kill her. Pearl slowed even further, her knuckles white around the handles of the cutters.
The siren’s breathing picked up again, sharp and uneven.
“I know,” Pearl murmured. “Almost done.”
Pearl carefully snipped the mesh, freeing her mouth last. Then, carefully, she unwound the last coil from around her throat. The net fell away with a soft clatter.
The siren sucked in a ragged, unrestrained breath. Her jaw trembled.
Pearl sat back on her heels, wire cutters loose in her lap, her own chest heaving with quiet relief.
The siren lay there, stunned.
Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, gills still fluttering. Her hands were free now, her tail unbound. But she didn’t move. Just stared at Pearl, dazed and confused, long fins twitching where they lay sprawled across the sun-warmed deck.
Pearl watched her, unsure of what to do.
She set the cutters aside and slowly eased back, putting distance between them. Pearl didn’t take her eyes off her.
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “You’re free to go.”
Still, the siren didn’t move.
Pearl hesitated, then reached out and gave her a light nudge with her fingertips.
Finally, the siren twitched. Her tail curled beneath her. With a low grunt of effort, she pushed herself up on shaky arms. Then, in one smooth motion, she launched herself over the side.
Splash.
Saltwater sprayed across Pearl’s face and chest. She flinched at the cold, blinking droplets from her lashes.
She remained there, kneeling, the wire cutters still clutched in one hand.
The deck was quiet again.
She sat there, alone. The imprint of the siren still marked the planks in blood and water.
Pearl stared at it.
Her hands were stained red. Her heart still beat too fast. She pressed a hand to her sternum, trying to steady it. Trying to breathe.
She should go clean up. Sanitize the deck. Fix the net. Record the damage.
But she stayed still.
That look. That face. Those eyes. The feel of her fins shifting beneath her palm. The way Pearl’s fingers trembled—not from fear, but from something else entirely.
Something she didn’t have a name for.
It shouldn’t have felt like this. She shouldn’t have cared.
She wiped a hand across her mouth, as if that might clear her head.
She didn’t like the way she felt.
Not because it was bad.
But because it wasn’t .
And that scared her more than anything.
The next morning, Pearl moved about her usual routine on the boat, sorting through her marine samples and checking her equipment. The sun was warm on her skin, and the gentle lapping of the water against the hull was soothing.
Suddenly, a movement caught her eye. She paused, stepping carefully to the railing and peering over. There, floating just beyond the dock, was the siren from yesterday. Her flaming-orange scales shimmered in the sunlight, and her eyes met Pearl’s.
“Oh hello,” Pearl breathed, surprise giving way to a soft, genuine smile. “You’re back.”
The siren hesitated, then reached into the water and pulled out a small, glistening scale — one of her own. She held it out shyly, an offering of thanks.
Pearl’s smile deepened, touched by the gesture. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, gently taking the scale and cradling it in her palm. “Thank you.”
The siren’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink. Her gaze dropped, fingers nervously fidgeting in front of her.
Pearl’s voice softened. ‘What’s your name, dear?
For a moment, the siren didn’t answer. Then, in a small, hesitant voice, she said.“G- Gem.”
Pearl’s smile widened, warmth blossoming in her chest. “Gem. That’s a lovely name.”
There was a brief silence, sunlight dancing around them.
“You can come aboard, if you want,” Pearl offered, turning slightly away, her voice casual but laced with invitation.
Gem hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her face. Then, with a breath, she climbed up the side of the boat and stepped inside.
As she lifted herself onto the deck, Gem’s form shimmered and shifted. Her sleek, aquatic build shimmered, fins folding, scales dissolving into smooth skin. In an instant, she stood bare and human, vulnerable and unadorned.
Pearl turned—and froze.
Her breath caught, eyes widening. She glanced away quickly, feeling heat rise to her cheeks, her heart pounding faster than she expected.
Gem’s eyes searched Pearl’s face. Her voice was cautious, worried. “Did I... did I do something wrong?” she asked softly, her voice trembling.
Pearl swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet Gem’s gaze. Internally, her thoughts raced: This isn’t right… Why am I feeling this way?
“I—no,” Pearl stammered, forcing the words out too quickly. “It’s fine. Really.”
She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly.“It’s just… humans usually wear clothes. Being like this, it’s a little... intimate.”
“Oh—!” Gem’s face went crimson as she quickly covered herself with her hands. “I’m sorry! I— I didn’t know.”
Pearl turned again, waving her hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t apologize! It’s okay, I just—wasn’t expecting it.”
The awkwardness hung between them, but there was something endearing about it.
After a moment, Gem smiled faintly, gathering her courage. “I should go... but I promise, I... I’ll come back,” Gem said quietly. “Soon.”
Pearl nodded, managing a genuine smile in return. She waved as Gem flung herself over the railing, shifting back into her siren form in the air. The flash of her tail caught the light as she dove into the sea with a gentle splash.
Pearl stood at the rail, watching her go.
Once Gem was gone, Pearl leaned against the railing, staring after her as her form faded.
Pearl’s smile faltered. She lowered her gaze, her mind tangled with thoughts she didn’t want to face.
What is this feeling? she thought, clenching her fists. I shouldn’t be feeling this. Not after everything.
The sun was higher today, its golden warmth glinting off the gently rolling sea. Pearl stood near the stern of the boat, pretending to catalog the marine samples she’d already recorded an hour ago. Her mind wasn’t on her work—it hadn’t been since yesterday.
Every splash of water or whisper of breeze had her glancing over her shoulder.
So when the soft sound came—a gentle splash just off the starboard side—her heart skipped. She turned quickly.
There she was. The siren.
Gem.
Bright orange scales caught the sunlight like fire through amber. Her head popped above the waves, white hair clinging to her neck and cheeks. Her eyes found Pearl’s.
Pearl smiled despite herself. “You came back.”
Gem looked sheepish, but pleased. “I said I would.”
She smiled shyly before swimming to the edge and pulling herself up, dripping wet and breathless. As she climbed aboard again, her body began to shift.
Scales rippled and receded. Her tail split into legs, her thin spines pressing against her back. In a breath, she stood upright. For one fleeting second, she stood on the deck completely bare.
Pearl’s eyes darted downward before she could stop herself. Just for a second, her gaze tilted to the soft curves and pale skin of Gem’s chest before she caught herself. Pearl jerked her head away like she’d been slapped.
Her face went crimson. She spun on her heel. “Clothes—!”
Behind her, Gem yelped in realization. “Ah! Right! I forgot—hang on—!”
A shimmer passed through the air again, and when Pearl dared to glance over her shoulder, Gem now stood fully dressed — proud, a little breathless, and absolutely glowing.
Navy-blue bandana tied under her wet hair. A sharp capelet over a teal vest with crisp, structured shoulders and delicate light-blue accents that traced down to golden trim. Beneath that, a pale sky-blue undershirt, long-sleeved and slightly translucent. Her slate-blue high-waisted trousers clung in all the right places before disappearing neatly into medium brown boots. Her left hand was fully gloved in dark leather.
Gem held her arms out slightly, turning once in place like she was showing off a costume at a festival. “I spent all night trying to get it right,” she said shyly. “It’s... is it good?”
Pearl stared, speechless. Her throat was dry. Her heart hammered so loud she was sure Gem could hear it.
“You look…” she managed, the words slipping out unfiltered. “...Amazing.”
Gem beamed, cheeks tinting pink. “Really?”
Pearl nodded, words failing her.
She stepped closer, tucking her hands behind her back like a child trying to look modest, and rocked slightly on her heels. “I wanted to look nice… for you.”
Pearl didn’t know what to say to that. Her heart pounded in a way she never felt before.
The air between them hummed. Pearl forced herself to turn, gesturing toward a crate for Gem to sit. Anything to break the tension before her brain spontaneously combusted.
They settled in together under the shade of the sail. Gem reached into the pouch at her side and carefully pulled something out. She held it up to Pearl with a bashful smile. A pair of two small, orange seashells. Their color echoed the vibrant tone of Gem’s scales.
“I brought you something,” she said shyly. “They’re my color. I thought… maybe you’d like them.”
Pearl stared at them, then slowly reached out and took them, her fingers brushing Gem’s. The shells were warm from her touch.
“Gem, they’re… beautiful.” Pearl took them gently. “Thank you.”
Gem smiled wider, but then tilted her head in surprise as Pearl stepped away and returned holding a small, carefully wrapped item.
“I was going to log this sample… but I think you’d appreciate it more.” She unwrapped the cloth to reveal a coral piece, twisted and branching in brilliant hues of blue and purple, speckled with soft white.
Gem’s eyes widened, “T-This is southern amethyst reef coral…It’s rare—”
Pearl shrugged. “Figured it deserved more than a dusty shelf.” She murmured with a hint of bitterness in her voice.
Gem’s fingers trembled slightly as she accepted the gift, her expression melting into something raw and soft. “I don’t… I don’t think anyone’s ever given me something like this before.”
Pearl opened her mouth, about to say something comforting—when Gem suddenly leaned in, impulsive and shaking.
Her lips parted, and without another word, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Pearl’s cheek.
Pearl stiffened, breath caught in her throat.
Then Gem whispered, her breath warm. “Sorry—I just… I think I love you.”
She took a few steps back, eyes wild and bright with excitement and uncertainty. “Thank you. For everything.”
And before Pearl could react—before she could think—Gem had turned, sprinted to the edge of the boat, and leapt.
She twisted mid-air, shimmering back into her siren form before hitting the water with a splash, vanishing below the surface.
Pearl stood frozen in place, hand raised halfway to her cheek. She could still feel the ghost of Gem’s lips against her skin, warm and soft and amazing.
And then it hit her.
Her face twisted as shame curled tight in her chest. She gripped the railing like it might keep her from unraveling completely.
No. No, no, no. This isn’t happening.
You just got out of a relationship. With a man.
And she’s a girl. A girl. What is wrong with you?
You looked at her—You wanted—
Gods, you’re disgusting.
Her hand clenched over the seashells still in her palm. She hated how pretty they were. She hated how her heart still fluttered thinking of that kiss. She hated how badly she wanted to see Gem again.
You’re not like that, she told herself harshly.
You can’t be. You’re just confused. Just lonely.
It doesn’t mean anything.
But she kissed me.
She kissed me and I liked it.
She sank to the deck, curled over her knees, forehead in her hands.
“Gods,” Pearl breathed, trembling.
“What’s wrong with me?”